


Oh please, like this is the worst I've done!

by stormthedarkcity



Series: Fictober 2018 [19]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alcohol, Fluff, Irresponsible Inquisitor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2020-10-04 07:57:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20467664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormthedarkcity/pseuds/stormthedarkcity
Summary: Inquisitor Lavellan has a bad habit of going missing during important banquets.





	Oh please, like this is the worst I've done!

Leliana’s people are discreet, Dorian would have to give them that. If he didn’t know who to look for, he wouldn’t have noticed any of the whispered words, the pieces of paper scribbled and passed from person to person across the busy throne room. There was a muted sort of agitation, hiding in plain sight.

Dorian crossed Josephine’s gaze. Now _she_ wasn’t as discrete as Leliana's people. She widened her eyes at him without pausing her passionate chat with some Antivan Ambassador, and he shrugged back. Why the void would he know anything about the Inquisitor’s whereabouts? Iyandrar was a grown man. It was his own problem, if he decided to sneak off as soon as diplomatic banquets were held in Skyhold.

He swirled his wine around, more out of habit than anything else. He was standing in a threshold, enjoying the slight cover it provided.

He hadn’t been invited to that event. He hadn’t been asked to stay away, either, and some social drinking and gossiping was always fun. He’d heard Antivan politics were rather _interesting_, and he wouldn’t miss this sort of opportunity.

He was about to take another sip of wine, when he felt the hair at the back of his head…move. Rise away from his scalp and vibrate with a familiar kind of feeling. He shook his head with a smile. _Someone_ was fond of his electricity tricks.

He glanced around to make sure no one was paying attention, before turning on his heels and heading into the dark hallway.

“You’re making a terrible impression on our guests,” he declared to the darkness, getting a grumbling sound as an answer. “Well? What are we doing?” He raised his cup to his mouth and tipped it slowly, incapable of seeing when the wine would hit his lips.

There was the sound of clicking fingers, and a small green flame lit in a palm, floating not far. A pair of brown eyes entered the light, followed by the rest of Iyandrar’s face. “Come with me!”

Dorian chuckled. He put his now-empty cup on the ground and followed the sound of footsteps and the faint light of veilfire down the hallway. It led to narrow stairs, then a heavy wooden door which opened on a balcony. The cold air hit Dorian like a punch in the chest.

“What do you think?” Iyandrar hopped up on a stone wall, smile bright and excited. He threw his hood off. He was wearing that thick green cape he put on when he was sneaking around Skyhold. Dorian wasn’t certain it still fooled anyone who paid attention.

He wrapped his arms around himself. “I think that Josephine would sell her youngest sister to know where you’re hiding.”

Iyandrar laughed. “Oh please, like this is the worst I’ve done! She’ll forgive me.”

“I also think that Leliana knows where you are by now.”

Iyandrar waved a hand dismissively. “Good. As long as she doesn’t send someone to fetch me, it means they don’t require my presence that badly.”

“I supposed that’s true,” Dorian agreed.

He looked around. The Courtyard was barely visible from up here, the people in it looking hardly bigger than bugs. It was a sheltered place. No wind, just the sun reflecting on the surrounding snow, so bright Dorian had to squint. “It’s beautiful.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw Iyandrar jump down from the wall, cape floating behind him. He walked to Dorian, lifted the corner of it, and wrapped them both in it.

It smelled like candle wax and elfroot, and the warmth of it sank right into Dorian’s bones. He huddled closer, and they both stood there, watching the clouds move in the distance.

“How did you find this place?” Dorian asked.

“I run away from nobles a lot. My quarters are too predictable.”

Dorian hummed. “Quite wise.”

“How’s your research going?”

“The books you brought back from the Western approach are rather fascinating. I doubt even Minrathous is in possession of such–”

There was a firm knock on the door. From the inside.

“Lord Inquisitor, Ser, your presence is required in the throne room,” said a voice behind it.

Iyandrar sighed. “I’ll be there in a minute,” he said in his Inquisitor voice, louder and unequivocal, as his shoulder slumped ever so slightly against Dorian’s. He shivered.

Dorian pretended he hadn’t noticed. “See? I told you Leliana knew,” he joked instead.

Iyandrar exhaled slowly, eyes closed and eyebrows knit. “Can I see you this evening?” It sounded more desperate than he’d probably intended it to be.

Dorian grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “Of course, Amatus.”


End file.
